Imagine for a moment a perfect world: You're younger, smarter, talented and much more attractive.
Now imagine you are Colby one sad, self-deprecatory night, scrolling through Netflix, ameliorative whiskey in hand. After a harrowing fifty-six minutes fighting back the waterworks while watching the PBS special "POV: A Family Undertaking", which explores the growing home funeral movement you decide cheap whiskey just isn't cutting it. You need a real pick-me-up. You break out the coke. . . and pour some in your glass. That's when you discover Bo Burnham, 19 year old stand-up comic and Youtube sensation, who oddly enough looks like a much younger, smarter, talented and more attractive version of yourself. Coupled with a pre-recession psychedelic hipster aesthetic, Bo may in fact represent the world that wasn't. I would recommend his Comedy Central debut: "Words, Words, Words", if just for his precocious need to cover all his bases and offend everyone while still maintaining that loopy leftist pc pragmatism best befitting a Brown graduate.
A boy who can write Shakespeare inspired porn is a boy after my own genome. If ever I've had a long lost brother, Bo Burnham is it.
A sample from "Sonnet 155, If Shakespeare Had Written Porn":
I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs
As I removed my source of Grecian power
As if King Midas dared to touch the skies
Upon thy body fell a golden shower
Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung
Upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed
The sun had set, thy set with wary hung
I thought, "How black a night and blue a lode"
I said, "What light through yonder beaver breaks?
It is the yeast"
And now my belly's yellow
My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes
But 'tis not massive, I am no Othello
And when that final moment came to pass
Like Christ I came-a riding on an ass